


Mortified

by afteriwake



Series: I Can Explain... [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 21:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4761662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After having a bit of fun in her office Sherlock’s zipper gets stuck, which leads to a slew of problems when Molly’s hair gets caught in it while she’s trying to fix it and they’re walked in on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mortified

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IdrisSmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdrisSmith/gifts).



> So this is a series of more humorous stories, all tied together by two things: (1) Sherlock and Molly are desperately trying to hide the fact they're dating and (2) they keep getting into embarrassing situations where it appears that they're dating. This entire series is dedicated to my dear friend **IdrisSmith** who, incidentally, gave the idea for the first story ("I was watching Two Weeks Notice yesterday and there was this scene where Sandra Bullock's character's hair got stuck on the zipper of Hugh Grant's character's pants...and someone walked in"). Hope you enjoy this, dear!

It was utterly exhausting trying to hide her relationship with Sherlock from the world.

It had begun rather quietly enough. During Moriarty’s second reign of terror she’d been moved into Baker Street and more or less sequestered there, so she and Sherlock spent quite a lot of time in each other’s company. And they grew more comfortable with each other, more used to each other. It was rather commonplace for the two of them to be curled up on the sofa or hunched together in the path lab. No one thought twice about seeing them together so often. Then one day a rather handsome man asked her out for a coffee when Sherlock was nearby. He’d flirted a bit before he actually asked and she declined, and that evening Sherlock had put space between them when they were on the sofa. He’d answered all her questions with one or two word answers. He’d even pouted a bit if she asked if she was jealous. She’d picked up a pillow off the sofa and swatted him in the face with it.

He, in turn, retaliated by doing it with the other pillow. Soon enough they hit each other to the point the pillows had leaked feathers and fluff all over the room, and there were no frowns on either of their faces, and he’d pulled her close, tipped her face up slightly and kissed her, the toe curling, gut warming, head spinning kind of kiss she’d always imagined a kiss with Sherlock Holmes would be like.

And then ten minutes later the man who’d asked her for coffee showed up and tried to kill them both. 

When she knocked him out using Sherlock’s violin case, which had thankfully been empty at that point, she could see by the look in his eye chances are there would be more kissing and possibly _more_ than kissing by the time Mycroft’s men were done taking the would be assassin out of Baker Street. She’d given him five minutes once the unconscious man was taken out. They didn’t even make it out of the sitting room before the clothing started coming off, and while the floor wasn’t the absolute best place for a first shag Sherlock’s skill and expertise more than made up for it. By the time they did manage to make it to his bedroom and round two started, she knew things were going to be quite different.

But they weren’t, not to the naked eye. Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper were best mates, closer than close, thick as thieves. And she was fine with putting up a front but dear God, there were times it was utterly exhausting. Like today. Today they were in her office in the morgue, having been doing the _teeniest_ bit of fooling around, and now they were making themselves presentable. She was smoothing down her skirt since she’d already readjusted her knickers and Sherlock was fiddling with his zipper. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“It seems to be stuck,” he replied, with a sigh.

She hesitated for a moment as she thought about what to do and then motioned to her desk chair. “All right. Sit in the chair and then lean back. Let me take a look.”

He nodded and sat down, leaning back in it. She licked her lips slightly, appreciating the view of a slightly disheveled Sherlock. He’d had her take her hair out of its ponytail so he could tangle his fingers in it and she, in turn, had ruffled his curls when he’d dipped his head to her chest. But now was not the time to think about that. Now was the time to take care of the problem. She leaned over him, her hair falling in her face as she tried to see what was wrong with the zipper. Sherlock’s hands were in the way as he tried one last pull on it. “See?”

“That’s why I’m taking a look,” Molly said, swatting at his hands. She ran her hand along the zipper and she felt him twitch slightly. “Hold still.” She inadvertently caressed the area as she examined the zipper and felt him begin to grow hard again. His stamina amazed her sometimes. “How the hell did you manage to get your zipper stuck?” 

“It’s not like I planned this!” he said, reaching for the zipper again. “And the movements of your hand are making the problem worse.”

“I’m not doing it on purpose,” she said, looking up as he pulled on the zipper one more time. It moved and he gave her a smug look. She rolled her eyes and pulled away, or tried to before yelping in pain. “My hair!”

His eyes grew wide as he heard the morgue doors open. “Oh hell,” he muttered.

“Just get my hair out!” she hissed

“Not enough time,” he said. “Get under your desk. There should be enough room there.”

“You owe me for this,” Molly said darkly as heels clacked outside. She scooted backward as he rolled the chair forward and they were almost there when the office door opened. Molly’s eyes grew wide when she saw Sally standing there. “I can explain…”

“No, I don’t think any explanation’s necessary,” Sally said, a grin slowly spreading on her face.

Sherlock glared. “I got hazardous materials on my shirt and I came into the office to change into a fresh one that I’ve kept here, since I spend so much time here _keeping Molly safe_ ,” Sherlock said, adding emphasis to the last part. “It got caught my zipper and I thought I’d broken it, Molly took a look and her hair got caught. And if you say anything else, Donovan, you’ll regret it.”

Sally chuckled. “Relax, Holmes. Molly covered up for me and Anderson a few times. I owe her the favour. But that doesn’t look like it’s a really comfortable position.”

“It’s because my hair really is caught, because we thought his zipper really was broken,” Molly said, turning her head slightly.

The amused look dropped off Sally’s face. “Greg’s right behind me, too.”

“Wonderful,” Sherlock murmured as Molly groaned.

“I’ll go tell him you’re eating and don’t want to be disturbed for…ten minutes?” Sally ventured.

“That should be enough time to fix this problem,” Sherlock said with a nod. “Thank you, Donovan.”

“Least I can do,” she said.

Molly turned back to a more comfortable position. “Think you can lower the zipper again?” she asked.

“We could also simply cut your hair,” he said.

“As a last resort,” she said. She moved her hand up and tried lowering the zipper but it wouldn’t budge and then she sighed. “Scissors are on my desk.”

“Lean in more,” he said.

“Why?” she asked curiously.

“To loosen the tautness of your hair,” he said. “I want to try one more time before we resort to desperate measures.”

“All right,” she said, leaning in so her nose was hovering just over his crotch. “Sherlock?”

“Yes?” he asked, moving her hands out of the way and moving them to the zipper.

“From now on if you’re having trouble with a zipper we wait until I’ve pulled my hair back before I help you again, understood? I don’t care if you get caught with your fly down. It’s less embarrassing that way.”

She could just bet he had an amused look on his face as he slowly eased the zipper down, then pulled her hair free. She straightened up her back, pulling away from his crotch, and then he zipped his zipper back up. He motioned for her to stand up and she planted a hand on each armrest of the chair as he tangled his fingers in her now free hair. “Understood,” he murmured before pulling her in for a kiss. She should be much more upset, she thought to herself as she lost herself in the kiss, but she’d just have him make up for it when they got back to Baker Street, and she had the feeling he’d be _quite_ willing to do that.


End file.
